


What if...

by obscureshipyard



Category: Tom à la ferme | Tom at the Farm (2013)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dom/sub, Domestic Violence, M/M, Missing Scene, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-12 00:24:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13535724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obscureshipyard/pseuds/obscureshipyard
Summary: What if Agathe had never come into the barn and interrupted their dance?





	What if...

**Author's Note:**

> Read the tags please. This is a work of pure fantasy and in no way do I condone this kind of relationship or intimacy outside of fantasy. I own nothing, all credit to Xavier Dolan and the creative team behind Tom a le ferme.

Tom’s head was swimming. Francis was so close. His body was a furnace giving off heat. Tom's eyelids felt heavy. He felt strung out. He remembered with a near explosion of hysterical laughter that he was also literally strung out.

Francis always made him feel uncomfortable but now his body seemed to just melt into powerful arms. The tango music blasted from the speaker and they whirled around the room. Tom’s body ached in various places from Francis’s outbursts and beatings. But at times like this, when he was graceful and bittersweet he just couldn’t reconcile the two faces of the same man.

Francis had been shouting about the farm and his mother but Tom could only focus on the sway of their bodies. Now the shouting had stopped. Francis had lowered him in to another dip and brought him back up with perfect ease. Tom was lost. His hands curled into the heavy muscle of Francis’s shoulders and braced him close. The larger man seemed to catch the wild look in Tom’s eyes at that moment. He didn’t move as Tom launched himself forward. He stood perfectly still forcing Tom to his tip toes to be able to kiss his lips properly.

Tom staggered back but was stopped by the firm arm holding his waist. He braced himself for another punch, or kick, or knee to the ribs. But nothing came. A warm hand settled on his chin and guided his face up to meet Francis’s eyes. He searched those mismatched orbs for some sign of what was coming next. There he found hunger. Francis yanked him by the jaw and forced his mouth open wide. A hot invading tongue burrowed in to Tom’s mouth. His body stilled, pliant and docile. Whimpers were all he could get out as Francis pulled him close and dragged him deeper into the barn.

Then everything was rushed and desperate. Francis had him flat on his back over a stack of hay bales as he mauled his mouth and throat. Tom could only gasp for air as hands made quick work of ripping his sweater up under his arms and his pants and underwear down to his thighs.

He would have bruises again, his mind not so helpfully supplied, teeth marks and small indents from callused fingers. But these felt good. Francis seemed to like the taste of him and Tom liked being tasted. The world was spinning too quickly so he shut his eyes. Francis was growling but if there were words Tom could hear none of it. His thighs dropped open whorishly. His cock was filling and his nipples spiked. He wanted to touch but his hands were slow and Francis would bat them down if they were in his way.

A few hard strokes of his cock by an unforgiving hand had Tom yelping but he didn’t ask to stop. No, in Tom’s inebriated state he didn’t want this to stop. He wanted pleasure. He wanted to get off. He hated Francis. He wanted him. He hated himself for wanting him. It was all a fucking mess.

This was what he deserved, a hard unforgiving fuck that would make him cum and make him bleed.

Two salty fingers forced their way into Tom’s mouth and he sucked them. He covered them both with as much saliva as he could. Neither of them had lube and Tom very much doubted Francis was going to stop just to avoid pain and blood. Proving his assumptions to be true Francis pulled the fingers from Tom’s mouth and flipped him on to his stomach. He hit the hay so hard it forced the air from his lungs. His ass was exposed but his only response was to back up farther to give Francis better access.

A sharp smack to his right cheek just made him cry out and seemed to egg Francis on. One finger quickly invaded up to the knuckle. Tom focused on his breathing and relaxing his muscles as best he could. The pain stung so badly it brought tears to his eyes. Yet it was not so terrible compared to the quick invasion of the second finger.

The hay cut into his hands as he shouted and tried not to pull away. He didn’t have much mobility anyhow. Francis’s legs were bracketing his and the hand that wasn’t busy forcing him open was pressing his chest flat onto the hay.

“You’re being such a good little bitch, Tom.” Francis complimented darkly as he scissored his fingers to open Tom even more. He bit into Tom’s exposed flanks making the smaller man grunt and struggle. But Francis's grip was strong and inescapable.

“You like being a good little bitch for me, Tom?” Probing fingers found his prostate and Tom saw stars. His mouth hung open as drool trickled out. Every movement was pain put through a haze of drugs and spiked with pleasure.

“Say it!” Francis commanded while jamming his fingers in as deeply as they would go. “Say it!”

“Yes! Fuck, yes, I like it.” He ground out in to the hay. He cried out from the abuse knowing full well it wouldn't stop or even slow his aggressive lover down.

“Such a good slut.” Francis pulled his fingers free only to yank Tom’s hips back. After spitting a few times into the crack of Tom’s ass Francis forced his cock inside the gape.

The brute force of Francis’s fucking was heaven and hell. Tom called out as meaty hands clutched too tightly onto his hips and a thick cock forced its way into his too dry hole. He tried to block out the pain. Instead he focused on his breathing, on the feel of Francis's hands on him. Francis seemed to love the shape of him. He stroked up and down Tom's sides from the base of his rib cage over the straight line of his waist and lean abdominals to the slight bell outwards of his hips. He ended at the plush muscle that was Tom’s ass.

Tom had never thought his skinny body was anything to lust over but Francis seemed to like the shape of him just fine. Many an acquaintance and lover had complimented Tom on his ass. Now here Francis was doing the same in not so many words. He felt a strange mixture of pride and guilty shame.

Grunting and cussing seemed to be all Francis was going to say until he had his fill. He fucked hard. His dick was big enough to make Tom dizzy. He had never thought himself to be a size queen but the way Francis was working the thick meat into and out of him, feeling the burn from his hole and the scrape against his prostate, had Tom changing his tune quickly.

Pure filth came tumbling out of his throat before he could even think. He begged Francis to keep going. He pleaded for him to go harder and rougher. He praised the man on his cock, on how good it all felt, on how sexy he was. It felt like someone else was talking. Tom blamed it on the drugs.

A callused hand found its way around his throat and squeezed. Tom nearly saw stars. His cock was already hard but now he was leaking precum onto the dirt below them. Francis was pounding away at his hole like a beast intent on breeding him full.

Francis’s hand tightened on his throat until Tom’s eyes were rolling back. The other hand suddenly crushed down on his pelvis until the bone ached. Hot breath on Tom’s neck was his only warning before sharp teeth were burying in to his flesh. A strangled wail was all he could manage as Tom came all over himself. His body seized from the force of it. Francis’s hips didn’t stop pounding. The stimulation became too much and Tom tried to claw away.

With a bite so deep Tom was sure he would bleed Francis came. Just as suddenly the man was a dead weight on top of him. Dust filled the air and Tom was choking on it. Francis's hand moved away from his throat but he was still having trouble breathing.

“Fuck! You’re amazing.” Francis's hands crushed down on Tom’s hips again. “I won’t be letting you go, Tom. You’ll never get away from me.”


End file.
